Ninja Turtles: The Little Man in the Short Brown Coat
by kenxepe
Summary: A mysterious vigilante is fighting crime! Told through the eyes of New Yorkers!


DISCLAIMER: I don't own any Ninja Turtles character, and I make no money from this fan fiction.

The Little Man in the Short Brown Coat

by

Rhonnel Ferry

Another slow night at Donald Aldo's Brooklyn Pizza Place. So far the only customer we have is that strange, little man in the hat and the short brown coat. He's over there at the corner booth, eating a slice of pizza, some fries, and a soda. He must be really cold to keep his hat on indoors. Then again, at 3AM, I suppose we're lucky to have any customers at all.

The only other person in here with me is Miranda. A young, perky, and beautiful blond girl in her waitress uniform with the really short skirt to show off her tanned, slender legs. It's actually flattering how she flirts with me every night, even though she knows I'm more into boys. Let me rephrase that. She flirts with me every night, BECAUSE she knows I'm more into boys. Well, I suppose I wouldn't mind doing her. If she can get me drunk enough, that is. After all, it's not like I'm getting any action from the boys lately.

Just then, the front doors swing open, and a group of unsavory types come in. You know, guys in sunglasses, and dark hoodies with the hoods pulled over baseball caps.

"Welcome to Donald Aldo's Brooklyn Pizza Place!" I announce unenthusiastically. "What may I get you...gentlemen?"

A young man with an unshaven face walks up to the counter, and says, "I'd like to have the Tomato Pizza Feast,...and all the money in your register."

"Excuse me?" I say with both a smile and a cocked eyebrow.

He pulls out a handgun from inside his white jacket and yells, "I said gimme the money in the register, you pansy-ass bitch!"

I start screaming and shaking my hands madly in the air!

"Hey, shut up! Shut up!" he tells me, and then slaps me across the face with his other hand!

It stings my cheek! I rub the side of my face with a trembling hand, but I do manage to quiet down.

"Open the cash register!" he commands again, pressing the barrel of the gun right on my forehead.

I shrink away from the weapon, and begin to do as he says. He joins me behind the counter. I guess to make sure that I don't press the alarm panic button underneath

Miranda is frozen in fear. Her eyes are wide and her body's shaking, but she hasn't moved from her spot!

"Well, look at what we have here," a big bald man with tattoos all over his arms tells her.

Another man and a woman join him, and they surround the frightened waitress. And then...and then...they become all...inappropriate towards her! And they start doing...unethical things!

"Stop that!" Miranda begs them.

But this only seems to motivate them. And they behave even more...ungentlemanly! O-or unladylike for the woman gang member.

"What, you wanna be a hero?" the man in the white jacket taunts me.

"No!" I quickly admit. "Farthest thing from my mind. I mean, that would be politically incorrect, wouldn't it? I mean, she's no damsel in distress. She's doing fine-"

"Help me, you goddamn coward!" Miranda screams at me.

I just smile at her, and give her two thumbs up.

And then the ruffian next to me punches me in the stomach! It is the most painful thing I have ever experienced in my whole life! It's like all the oxygen is forced out of my body! My washboard abs provided absolutely no protection to my inner organs whatsoever! None at all! I have never been punched in the stomach before! Actually, I have never been punched anywhere before! Not even by my father who has always been extremely supportive of my bisexual lifestyle.

"What did you do that for?!" I rasp.

"That's for bein' a pussy!" he answers, and then slugs me in the stomach again!

And it is the NEW most painful thing I have ever experienced in my whole life! I bend forward and start coughing like crazy. I have to lean on the counter for support, or I would have collapsed right on the spot.

Then he laughs, and punches me in the side! It's so painful, it makes me scream!

"Stop!" I beg him, tears freely running down my face now.

"Hey, you!" one of the brutes, a big man with a red bandanna on his head growls. "Money! Now!"

He's threatening our one and only customer. The guy in the hat and coat! I had completely forgotten about him! He's still in the corner booth. As a matter of fact, he hasn't stopped eating his pizza!

The brute points a big, silver revolver at his head, and says, "I said...money! Now!"

"Don't point that shit in my face," the little man growls.

And suddenly he's got everybody's attention. The cruel guy in the white jacket, the three indecent people harassing Miranda. The guy in the bandanna looks back at them nervously. Like he doesn't want to look bad in front of his friends or anything.

He tells the little man, "Oh, you're a tough guy, huh?"

The little man ominously replies, "You have no idea."

Then he suddenly grabs the bandanna man's wrist with one hand and twists it! I hear a sickening snap! The big man drops the revolver, and he just shrieks in pain! Our customer doesn't stop there. He grabs a knife from the table, and stabs it into the man's jugular! So much blood erupts from his neck! I have no idea how the little man did that! I mean, those knives aren't even sharp! They're made out of plastic, for heaven's sake! The bandanna man's body goes limp, and he falls heavily into the ground. I think he's dead!

The three others completely forget about Miranda. Two of them checks on the dead bandanna man. The other one rushes the little guy!

But the little guy springs to his feet and does...! Oh, I'm really not into all that karate stuff. I don't know what it's called. It's like one of those fancy kicks. You know, he spins around and hits one guy in the face with his heel! He almost tears the man's head off with that kick! The hooligan spins like a ballerina in midair before crashing back down on the floor. I think his jaw is broken. It's loosely hanging off his face!

"Alright, it's on now," the bald guy with the tattoos announces.

He takes a baseball bat, and starts bobbing and weaving in front of our customer. Our customer just stands there steadily, barely moving. Barely even breathing, I think! Tattoo guy starts swinging! Little man dodges the attacks. But it's weird how he dodges. He only slightly tilts his head. It's like he's hardly moving at all. Like he's not wasting movement.

Tattoo guy is getting frustrated. He roars, and swings the bat again! He puts all his strength into it! This time, the customer blocks the attack with his forearm. But does it break his forearm? No! It breaks the bat! Seriously! The bat shatters against his arm like it was made of glass! Or candy!

Tattoo guy is in shock. He's staring at what's left of the bat in his hands. He's wide-eyed, and his mouth is open! Then the little man... He just shoves his foot right into tattoo guy's shin, and breaks it! It bends the wrong way! How do I know it's the wrong way? Because we don't have a joint there! That's how! Oh, it's disgusting. It looks like rubber, with only the flesh holding his lower leg together.

Tattoo guy falls to the ground, holding onto his leg, and screams like a lunatic!

"Look out!" I warn the little man.

That woman gangster takes out a switchblade, and stabs him in the back! But to her surprise, and mine, the blade breaks off the handle! He must be wearing a backpack under that coat. And the backpack must be made of steel or something!

He doesn't even bother turning around to face her. He just thrusts his foot back into her stomach! Her body is violently thrown halfway across the room into the backrest of one of the seats! I hear something crack. I hope, for her sake, it's the backrest and not her back.

Suddenly the cruel man in the white jacket wraps his arm around my neck! It's so tight, I have to hold onto his forearm with both hands to stop him from choking me!

"Hold it!" he tells the little man, then he points his pistol at the side of my head! "Make a move and I blow this sissy's head off!"

The little man freezes in place. But me? I have just about had all that I can possibly take. I took this boring job, because I don't cope well with extreme situations. I can't take any more, so I...I...I...I shit myself.

"What the hell?" the white jacket guy tells me. "Aw, man. That is so wrong. That is just nasty."

I guess it must have been a good distraction, because the little guy just suddenly throws this weird looking knife, with two short prongs, and a longer spike in the center. It strikes the cruel man right through the eye! He falls and slumps against the wall behind me. There's so much blood. I almost puked all over him.

And then the little guy. He starts searching the wallets of the dead ruffians. He is robbing the robbers!

He puts 23 dollars on the counter and says, "I'll have the high-protein all-meat family pizza to go."

After I give him the pie, he passes by tattoo guy, squirming in pain on the floor.

"Next time you wanna stick-up a pizza parlor," the little man tells him, "think twice."

Then he stomps on tattoo guy's face to knock him out!

#

"I'm gonna have to take that money he gave you," Detective Perry, a rather lean man but with a beer belly, tells me. "It's evidence."

"Oh, I didn't take the money," I inform him. "He saved my life. You think I'm going to take his money? If he had given me his name, I would give him free pizza forever."

"What about that weird pointed knife he threw at the other guy's eye?"

"Oh, he didn't leave that behind."

The detective grumbles.

"And you didn't get a good look at his face?" he asks.

"No. Not with that hat shadowing his features," I answer.

"Just a hat and short brown coat, huh?"

"Well, short for me. Like I said, he's a little guy, so it practically covered him all the way to his toes."

"Mhm. You know how many people dress like that in New York city?"

"In this weather? Practically everyone. Including you, for that matter."

"You know, you and your girlfriend-"

"Oh, she's not my girlfriend."

He nods quietly, then continues, "You and the girl got roughed up pretty bad, right? If this little guy was so tough, how come he didn't do anything sooner?"

"I don't know. I suppose it's because he hadn't finished his meal. I didn't ask him. It's not like it's his job or anything. He's not a cop."

The detective glares at me for that remark. I honestly didn't mean to insinuate that he wasn't doing HIS job.

"You're sure there's nothing else you can tell me?" he asks me through angry, clenched teeth.

"I'll tell you one thing. I'm never complaining about another slow night at work again."

END


End file.
